Why Some Traumatized People Think Focusing on Trauma Is Stupid

Some of the messages that appear on my YouTube channel are fascinating — occasionally warm and thoughtful, and at other times they provoke a strong reaction. Rather than always replying in the comments, sometimes a response ends up in a video. Today’s example comes from a viewer who was furious about a “letterw” situation and answered in what I call the cowboy response. This was posted on a clip titled “your adult child blames you: the limits of toxic empathy,” which you might recall from about a month ago. In that episode a mother described living with her adult daughter and the husband; the daughter, who had endured deep childhood trauma, remained furious at her parents and directed most of her wrath at the mother — not because the mother was the primary abuser, but because she hadn’t intervened or left. The mother explained that both she and her daughter tiptoed around the father to avoid triggering his violent temper. From the outside the daughter’s anger made sense, yet the situation was tangled: here was a woman in her thirties still at home, treating her mother terribly while the mother, perhaps in an attempt to placate, pleaded for her daughter’s affection instead of confronting the husband’s past or present behavior. Family stories are rarely simple. I felt a lot of compassion for both women, and viewers reacted strongly. One comment in particular illustrates what I call the cowboy response. The writer — apparently a woman — argued that the true victim was the mother, long abused by her husband, shoved around by the eldest daughter who might have been the one to help her escape the chaos, while the youngest daughter piled on guilt and played the pitiable role to keep the mother jumping through hoops and doing everything for her. The commenter acknowledged the mother’s flaws but insisted she shouldn’t be expected to carry the burden forever: everyone around her was draining her life force, the children needed to grow up, the father needed to change or leave, and the mother needed space away from those narcissists to clear her head, heal, and let the family either sink or swim. The tone of the note suggests lived experience. Before anyone accuses her of not understanding, she preempted it: she claimed to know intimately what that childhood feels like but chose to grow beyond it, refusing to let the nightmare of her past dictate her identity. She said she’d sought forgiveness, worked on herself, learned from mistakes, and stopped allowing her daughter to manipulate her with guilt. She declared that she now expects better, demands respect, and will no longer be bullied into raising children forever; “the teat is dry,” she wrote, though her heart remains open to a healthy relationship. If her children won’t meet her there, they can go and learn to be grown-ups on their own. She forgave her parents and urged the mother in the video to get a life, noting she, too, lives with PTSD but still moves forward. So how did that land with you? To me, this is a clear example of the cowboy response — a valid way some people confront a painful past. I tend to think there are multiple major routes to healing (I often imagine about seven different paths for any big life task), and this is the “tough it out” path: a stance of firmness, setting boundaries, refusing to be mistreated, and cutting people loose when apologies aren’t followed by change. It’s forceful and, in many circles, countercultural, because contemporary wisdom often leans toward gentleness and sensitivity. For survivors who were told to “get over it,” this approach can be deeply triggering; it echoes what might have been used to silence them. At the same time, everyone needs time and a method to face and process trauma. In the video the daughter had been gravely harmed, and the mother’s fawning — constantly trying to fix and placate — clearly failed to meet her needs. So the question becomes: is the blunt “I’m done” stance better or worse than persistent empathy and repair? Your reaction will likely mirror the path that resonates with you. Some people find relief in talking things out extensively with a therapist and allowing grief to be held; others find daily practices, journaling, and small, steady rituals more effective. For me, writing and disciplined daily work eased ruminations and the feeling of being permanently damaged, allowing progressive release — sometimes in slow increments, sometimes in sudden breakthroughs. Yet even now, years later, traces of that childhood dent remain. I’ve lived the dynamics in different roles: the silenced child, the resentful adult, the caretaker seeking approval, and even the person who finally says enough. That’s why this topic is so rich: how should someone who witnessed abuse — or who may have contributed to it — behave toward their children so they don’t enable dependence or keep them stuck in misery? How should a parent who failed to protect their child repair without fostering lifelong dependence? Perhaps any of the major paths can lead to a way through; there’s rarely a single correct route. Share your experience and thoughts in the comments. Find this video, return here, and consider subscribing to the channel — there’s a push to reach a million subscribers this year, and clicking the subscribe button and the little bell helps a lot. If complex PTSD or unresolved trauma still affects your choices, there’s a free quiz that outlines common signs you might relate to; you can download it right here. See you again soon.

Practical guidance for people stuck between “cowboy” boundaries and persistent repair

When trauma has shaped family patterns, it helps to move from moralizing — “right” vs. “wrong” — to practical steps you can try. Below are concrete strategies for both survivors and parents trying to repair without enabling.

• Assess safety first. If anyone is in immediate danger (physical violence, threats, self-harm), prioritize safety: leave the situation if you can, contact emergency services, or call a crisis line. If you’re in the U.S., dialing 988 connects you to the suicide and crisis lifeline; if you’re elsewhere, contact your local emergency number or crisis resources.
• Set clear, time-limited boundaries. Boundaries are most effective when specific and actionable: “I can’t have you yelling in my house. If that happens, I will leave for two hours,” or “I will no longer provide financial support after X date unless we have a repayment plan.” Time limits make boundaries feel less permanent and easier to negotiate later.
• Use short repair scripts. When apologizing or repairing, focus on concise responsibility and change: “I’m sorry I didn’t protect you. I can’t change the past, but I’m committed to safety now. I will start attending therapy and create a safety plan.” Concrete actions matter more than long explanations.
• Avoid rescuing; teach agency. If a parent wants to repair without creating dependence, use graduated autonomy: small responsibilities, agreed deadlines, and support that helps the adult child build skills (budgeting help for a month, job-search coaching, or setting a move-out timeline) rather than indefinite provision.
• When to seek family therapy — and when to avoid it. Family therapy can help when participants are willing to do work and there’s no ongoing threat of abuse. If rage or violence is active, individual therapy and safety planning should come first. A trauma-informed therapist can guide whether family sessions are safe or premature.

Therapies and self-help practices that commonly help

No single therapy fits everyone, but these approaches are evidence-based and frequently useful:

• Trauma-focused CBT (TF-CBT) — structured, skill-based therapy that addresses trauma memories and teaches coping.
• EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) — helps reprocess traumatic memories and reduce their emotional charge for many people.
• DBT (Dialectical Behavior Therapy) — strong for emotional regulation, distress tolerance, and interpersonal effectiveness.
• Somatic approaches (Somatic Experiencing, sensorimotor therapy) — focus on bodily regulation and releasing trauma stored in the nervous system.
• Peer support groups — recovery groups and survivor communities can normalize experience and reduce isolation.

Daily practices to reduce reactivity and build resilience

• Grounding exercises: 5-4-3-2-1 sensory check, or naming colors in the room.
• Breathing practices: box breathing (4–4–4–4) or paced exhale breathing to calm the nervous system.
• Micro-routines: short daily rituals (morning walk, brief journaling, sleep hygiene) that restore predictability.
• Movement/somatic work: yoga, walking, or gentle movement to discharge tension.
• Limit rumination: set a daily 15–20 minute worry period instead of letting worry run all day.

Signs complex trauma may still be influencing decisions

Recognizing symptoms can help you choose a path forward. Common signs include ongoing hypervigilance, emotional dysregulation, chronic shame or self-blame, avoidance of intimacy, repeated unhealthy relationships, or feeling stuck between extreme acquiescence and abrupt cutoff. If these patterns persist, professional help can support change.

Short scripts you can use

• Boundary: “I love you, but I won’t accept threats or insults. If that happens, I’ll leave the house.”
• Repair offer: “I’m sorry for what you experienced. I want to make amends. I will start therapy and share updates when appropriate.”
• Gradual autonomy: “I will help you with job applications this month. After that, you’ll be responsible for rent and bills.”

Final note

Both “cowboy” toughness and prolonged empathic repair can be adaptive depending on context. The healthiest path is trauma-informed: prioritize safety, use clear boundaries, pursue repair that includes concrete behavior change, and build supports (therapy, peer groups, self-care routines). Healing rarely follows a single script — take practical steps, be willing to adjust, and get professional support when needed.